When Chris and I met, we were 17. He was the first boy I took notice of on campus at college (literally day 1), was the goofy one I low key filmed on my metro pcs cell phone on our way to the freshmen-only dodgers game before the first semester started (where he was coined with the nickname Funny Guy to my girl friends since I didn’t know his actual name), and he showed up on my first day of classes in not just one class, but every single one of my major classes. I had to wait a while before I could swoop in since he was dating a girl elsewhere, and when I was on my way to get coffee before heading to the practice rooms for a long weekend session, I — on a whim — texted him to see if he wanted any. 10 minutes later, this cute Belgian sperry-wearing piano master friend I’d been eyeing for a solid year was newly single (!!!!!) and sitting in my truck to go with me to get coffee (which I later found out, he didn’t really drink). We never made it to the practice rooms as we sat out in the lobby sipping our coffee and sharing our life stories with each other for a solid 3 hours. I cried when he texted me asking for a second date (where I came home and told my roommates I knew I was going to marry him); he inspired me to do my best in college where we had extremely rigorous rehearsal and performance schedules alongside consistent 18-unit semesters; he tenderly held my hand through the season when I lost my dad at 19; we performed a joint senior recital and walked the stage at graduation one after another; his parents said, “Did you think we would be surprised,” when we sat them down and told them we wanted to get married (at 21); and when I called him at work on a busy Saturday a few weeks before my 22nd birthday (2.5 months after our wedding) and numbly told him I was pregnant, he once again took my fragile heart and held it close to his own and made me feel safe. Together with faith in God, we would make it, and — thank you Jesus!! — we have. I still cry when he gets called into work early, our kids and I never laugh harder than when he’s just being his silly self, and he still gingerly holds my heart in his hands with extreme care. Cont’d in comments.